


==>Karkat: Soothe Daughter

by Quilly



Series: Married with Grubs [7]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Gen, Phase Two, and there is midnight ice cream, in which karkat puts his chucklevoodoo-soothing skills to good use, incredibly self-indulgent babyfic, of the Married with Grubs event, on a very frightened child who can't control herself yet, part of the Sherlockbound/Fun with Dirk and Jane universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:39:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quilly/pseuds/Quilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Karkat Vantas and there is whimpering down the hall in your daughter's room.</p>
<p>(Part of the Married with Grubs event for the Sherlockbound/Life with Dirk and Jane series. Phase Two: Childhood, 1/5)</p>
            </blockquote>





	==>Karkat: Soothe Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, all! This is an event going on at the Sherlockbound askblog (asksherlockbound.tumblr.com, check the sidebar for the Married with Grubs button) and I'm moving the drabbles over to here for other people to access, so voila! This is the first of five in Phase Two: Childhood of that event! If you're curious about what Sherlockbound/Life with Dirk and Jane is, check my page for the series Life with Dirk and Jane!
> 
> Enjoy!

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you are scared.

 

You heard Angel crying out a little while ago, and Jade got up to go soothe her, and hasn’t come back. And, as you wake up a little more and realize this, you can hear muffled whimpering down the hall.

You get up, wishing your gun wasn’t downstairs and you had something more substantial than your claws and teeth and negligible horns to defend your family with, and pad silently down the hall to where Angel’s room is. About halfway there you pause, because you can _feel_ what’s wrong—there’s fear like an oil slick spilling all over the place down here, the kind that gives you pause because you need a minute to compose yourself, and you grit your teeth and change course. Dustin needs you right now.

Her room is dark and the chucklevoodoos in the air, while not the strongest you’ve ever felt, are enough to make you gag. You can hear Dustin, too, whimpering a little as her slime sloshes gently with her rolling. You feel another prickle of fear unrelated to the psychic input your brain is shaking off. She’s too young to be moving up to a higher concentration of sopor, but apparently this is what you’re going to have to do. But first, you need to make her stop what she’s doing right now.

You approach her cautiously, and when you touch her to wake her it’s a very, very light tap against her cheek. Her eyes fly open and they’re large black pupils against orange jelly. Her teeth draw back in a snarl, and in seconds she’s crouched in her recuperacoon with her horns and claws at the ready. Even at six years old she’s a terrifying sight. You reach out and touch her again, making a low soothing noise you’ve only ever used on one individual before in your life.

“Sssshhhhh, Dustin, it’s okay. It’s okay. Shoosh. Shooosh. Daddy’s here.”

You keep repeating that to her, and after a moment she loosens up enough to let you pick her up. She curls tight around you, and you feel a warm wet spot spreading on your shoulder, distinct from the cold wet spots of the sopor dripping onto your PJs. You stroke her hair and murmur into her ear, and after another minute or so the chucklevoodoos fade. You carry Dustin downstairs to the kitchen and start making midnight sundaes (appropriate, although it’s actually two AM). Jade and Angel will be along as soon as they’re not terrified anymore. You really, _really_ want to check on them, but Dustin is sniffling and shivering and she needs you most right now.

You wrap her up in a towel and set out four bowls, four spoons, and one cup, which you fill with a little bit of grubmilk and blitz for a few seconds in the microwave. You get Dustin settled with said grubmilk just as Jade and Angel come back downstairs. There are noticeable tearstains on Angel’s face, her cheeks ruddy with sleep, and Jade jumps a little at sudden sounds you make, but once the sundaes are made up and served they seem to relax. You fill up the silence with chatter at Angel, who eats her ice cream and starts giggling after a few minutes. Jade toys with hers, mostly. Dustin inhales hers, which you expected; she should be starving, who knows how long she’s been accidentally putting out nightmare vibes?

“I’ll get the girls settled,” you say as Jade yawns. “You go back to bed.”

“Good luck, now that you’ve given them sugar,” Jade says, but takes your point and goes upstairs. You balance Dustin in one arm and Angel in the other and take them both upstairs. Angel gets settled in her little bed first, kissing your cheek and Dustin’s and falling back asleep almost instantly. Dustin takes a little more finagling into her ‘cupe, since her arms are tight around your neck again and you know she probably needs fresh sopor anyway. You haven’t used your recuperacoon regularly since you and Jade moved in together years and years ago, so all your sopor is probably not as fresh as it should be, but it’ll do for the night. You stir in a fresh packet and don’t use as much water, and it all blends together well. You wait until the fumes wear off a little, and then gently lower Dustin into it.

“I’m sorry,” Dustin says, the only coherent sentence she’s spoken since she woke up. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“It’s okay, Dustin,” you say, and kiss her forehead and rub her horns a little. “It’s alright. We’re going to get you some more slime so you can sleep better at night, okay?”

She nods, her face cracking like she’s about to cry, and you shoosh and soothe and basically stay by her until she sinks back into the sopor, out like a light again. You watch her sleep for a few minutes, double-check on Angel, and then see to your wife.

Jade’s still awake, knees drawn up to her chest and chin resting on her arms, and when she looks at you, you see the bright green of her eyes even in the darkness.

“I didn’t think she’d be able to emanate that strongly so soon,” she says as you lay down next to her. She looks down at you. “What do we do?”

You let out a breath through your nose, reaching up and rubbing her back underneath her hair.

“She needs a stronger sopor concentration,” you say, “and I’ll need to talk to Gamzee about teaching her what she’s doing and how to tone it down.”

Jade sits silently for a minute, then lays down and snuggles up against you, her head under your chin. You shift around, cup her cheek with a hand, and kiss her, deep and slow. You don’t stop until you feel her start to relax, and then you go back to holding her.

“She’s going to be fine,” you say firmly. “It’s a quirk with her bloodline. We’ll work with it.”

Jade nods. “I know.” A few minutes, then, “We have to explain it to Angel.”

You nod. “In the morning.”

You don’t go to sleep until you hear Jade’s breath even out, and even then you strain to hear any possible whimpers or screams coming from down the hall. You’re still listening by the time you think you fall asleep.


End file.
